The Joining of the Three

Chapter 5

Harry and Ron didn't move for quite a while; neither did the many-armed crying mass on the couch. Several times, Ron cleared his throat but all he got was louder sobbing.

Every now and then, Harry heard Hermione's voice above the racket. "I'm so glad you're okay." "I've missed you." "I've been so worried." But as each sentence was punctuated with another sob, Harry tuned out quickly. Seeing Hermione cry, even in happiness, made his heart ache.

Harry saw Ron stare purposefully at Mariah, saw her eyes rise to meet his, and then saw a smile cross his face.

"Er, Ron?" Harry began, touching his friend's shoulder to get his attention.

"Let's sit over here," Ron said, indicating the pair of chairs across from the weeping women who all seemed to be talking at once now, Mariah gesticulating and nodding wildly. "There's something I haven't told you yet about Mariah."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that," Harry grinned.

Ron filled Harry in on the rather unique way he and Mariah communicated these days, and Harry, thankfully, didn't press him for the reasons why. Before either of them could speak again, the sobbing dwindled down to a few watery sniffles. "Thank goodness," Ron said to the three of them, "I thought we were going to have to move to higher ground to escape the flood waters."

Very funny, Mariah thought at him.

"Very funny," Ginny and Hermione said at the same time.

Mariah, Ron asked, meeting her eyes once again. How much do you want me to tell them about…us?

Whatever you're comfortable with, Ron. They're your family. A small, almost embarrassed smile tilted the corners of her mouth. When he matched it, her face broke into a wide, brilliant, tearstained-cheek grin that warmed him to the tips of his toes. Ron wondered vaguely if this was what Harry meant when he talked about Hermione's smile.

Ron was surprisingly touched that she'd referred to Harry and Hermione as his family. Not many people realized the depth of their connection.

Ron barely opened his mouth to begin when Ginny stood, wiped the tears from her cheeks and announced that she was heading home. A flurry of arguments met that statement. Mariah ended them all when she stood and stomped her foot on the floor.

When she had their attention, she raised a hand at Ginny then stared right at Ron. When Ron spoke, it was to two very confused sets of brown eyes and one set of smug green ones. "Mariah says you shouldn't leave yet, Ginny. She says you're probably still in danger of attack."

Ginny looked from Ron to Mariah several times like she was watching a tennis match. Something in their expressions must have convinced her, because she returned to the couch, sat and crossed her arms.

"Whoever this mystery man of yours is Ginny, he can wait for a few more minutes, can't he?"

"It'll be more than that since I can't Apparate back, Ron. But yes, he can wait." Ginny just hoped he wasn't too worried about her. Knowing Draco, though, that was like hoping for snow in midsummer.

"Mariah," Hermione interrupted the sibling glaring contest, "Ron said you lost your voice, is that right?"

"No, Hermione," Ron clarified, "it was taken by her kidnapper."

A light seemed to dawn over Hermione's head. "I'd like to try something, if that's okay?" When Mariah nodded, Hermione took out her wand and began muttering words none of them had ever heard before.

Mariah sat up suddenly and clutched a hand to her throat.

"Hang on," Ron protested and laid his hand on Hermione's arm. "You're hurting her."

"It's all right, Ron," Mariah said weakly, her long denied voice scratchy and soft but undeniably functional.

Ron's hand dropped from Hermione's arm and he stared openmouthed at Mariah. "It works?"

"It works," she smiled back.

Ron had been expecting to feel happiness when or even if she ever got her voice back. And a large part of him was glad to hear the soft, American accented sound of her voice…but he also felt a sense of melancholy about losing the mental connection they'd shared over the past few weeks.

It's still there, Ron.

Their eyes met. Ron grinned like an idiot, and Mariah blushed slightly.

"Anyone else getting the feeling we're missing something here?" Harry quipped, then was rewarded with an elbow to the stomach from his wife. "Ooof. Where'd you learn that little trick, by the way?"

"I've learned loads of new charms and spells during my work on the rebound. This one was a variation on the Voccularus charm. It has more power, enough to counter a curse strong enough to rob someone of their voice."

"But why would anyone want to take your voice, Mariah?" Ginny asked.

And so the question came. Mariah knew it was inevitable. After all, not many people were robbed of the ability to speak outside of mermaids in Disney movies. She'd debated with herself over this - how much to tell them. As much as she trusted these people who were her closest friends, breaking her vow of secrecy to the Order would put others in danger of discovery. In the end, Mariah decided to keep as close to the truth as possible while revealing very little. It wasn't going to be easy.

She studiously avoided Ron's eyes as she phrased her answer. "Whoever this man was, he knew enough about me to know that I have a certain…gift. I can use my voice to get people to do what I want. Sort of like the Jedi Knights in the movies." She felt rather than saw Ron's eyes on her, but she kept her attention focused away from him.

"Is that why he kidnapped you, Mariah?" Hermione asked. "Did he want you to use this gift for his own purposes?"

"I don't think so," she said quietly. "I think he was after the baby. Which is why I don't think that you should be going anywhere alone, Ginny. You either, Hermione."

Silence enveloped the room like a shroud. Ginny looked stunned; Harry moved to Hermione's side and took her hand. Ron didn't move. Slowly, timidly, she raised her eyes to his.

Exactly how much have you been keeping from me, Mariah?

Their eyes met and their thoughts parried with one another's. Finally, when Harry cleared his throat loudly, Mariah broke the eye contact and sent one last word. Later.

"It fits," Harry said suddenly and all eyes focused on him. "The scroll, the Daemonica story, the woman that showed up at Hogwarts. For whatever reason, this ruse is being used to get us concerned about the unborn of the wizarding world. The only question is, why?"

"What is a Daemonica? And what woman?" Mariah asked suddenly, her eyes focusing on him like twin blue lasers.

Harry filled Mariah and Ginny in on the events of the last few weeks, occasionally glaring at Ron for not telling Mariah any of it. Both of the women reacted the same way Hermione had upon hearing of the Daemonica, and Harry was glad to be able to tell them immediately that it was a hoax.

"But a very expertly manipulated hoax," Harry pointed out. "And one directed at one of my deepest fears. Hermione and I, as well as Professor Dumbledore, think that Draco Malfoy might be behind this, but as no one has talked to him in a while there's no way of confirming it. So now we not only have to find out where he is, we have to find out why he's so desperate for a wizard child that he'd kidnap you, Mariah, and attempt to kidnap you, Ginny."

Ginny was mere seconds away from biting off her own tongue in anger. How dare they? How dare they accuse her husband, slander his name with no real proof? Her heart aching for him and crying out for her to defend him, Ginny inhaled sharply, her face nearly the color of her hair.

But when she pictured Draco's face in her mind's eye, her anger cooled almost instantly. She couldn't dispute that she and Mariah had both met danger. She knew with every fiber of her soul that Draco had nothing to do with either attack, but she had no proof, either. And she could do more to prove his innocence if she didn't give in to her temper and announce to the whole room that she was married to prime suspect number one.

She refocused her attention onto the group when she heard Ron's voice. "And that's why I don't want you going back home, Gin," Ron was saying in his best I'm-the-big-brother voice. "At least not alone. Let me or Harry go with you, make sure you get back to your mystery man safely."

Ginny felt herself trapped in the web of her secret life. She called herself every kind of coward for not standing up to her family before now and introducing her husband to them. And now was definitely not the time for it. Now was the time to placate, to give in, and to gather information.

"No, you're right," she said simply, "if you think there's that much danger, I'll stay here."

Harry and Ron shared an uneasy glance, almost afraid of how easy it had been to convince her.

^*^*^*^*

Harry and Hermione strolled back to Hogwarts, taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. With an umbrella of stars, a bright hunter's moon overhead and a near tropical breeze flirting with the hems of their robes, they were in no hurry to return. They strolled lazily, hand in hand, each lost in their own thoughts about the night's events.

Harry didn't speak until they crossed through the Hogwarts gates and started towards the castle. Hermione nudged him towards the lake instead. They waved at Hagrid's new helpers, a pair of 19-year-old twins named Zeph and Zorb, who were attempting to corral a herd of goats into the empty paddock behind Hagrid's hut.

"Impressions?" he asked his wife.

"Ron's in love with her," Hermione said simply.

"What?" Harry stopped walking. He hadn't expected that.

"But I don't think he knows it yet," she finished, barely containing a smile. Harry still looked puzzled, so she explained. "You can see it in the way he takes care of her. Her voice got scratchy, he went for water. She started to roll her shoulders, he reached over and began rubbing the spot behind her neck. And then there were the fingers."

"Fingers?" Harry smiled, "I'm sick with suspense, Mione. Do explain about the fingers."

Hermione cuffed him on the side of the head playfully. "While you were talking about the woman and the scroll, Ron took her hand and started playing with her fingers. I don't even think he knew he was doing it."

She glared at him soundly and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Just what is so bloody funny, Potter?"

"My logical, practical wife is a hopeless romantic," Harry laughed, sweeping his arms around her and hugging her tight. He loosened his grip enough to meet her cinnamon tinted eyes. There was a mixture of irritation and desire swimming in them. Harry decided to act on the desire part and fastened his lips to hers.

Hermione tried to resist for all of two seconds, but Harry's kisses were too tempting to resist for long. Standing on her toes, Hermione took the initiative and deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue between his lips and plundering. His arms tightened slightly in deference to her growing middle, and she left his mouth to trail wet kisses towards his neck.

"Uh…Hermione," Harry half spoke, half groaned. "We should really stop unless you want to chance being caught like a couple of hormone-crazed sixth years."

"It's night, Harry. Students aren't allowed on the grounds this late," Hermione's lips continued up his neck towards his ear.

"Like that ever stopped us," he reminded her, then nearly stumbled when she pulled away altogether.

"What were we talking about?" Hermione asked a bit breathlessly, trying to remember what she'd said before Harry had kissed her senseless.

"Impressions of the night's events. I saw one you apparently missed," he said, with only a trace of smugness in his voice.

"Which was?"

"Mariah has a band around her wrist identical to the one you described. The one our mystery guest had tattooed on hers. Left wrist, black band, right?"

Hermione stopped abruptly, a look of frozen shock on her face. "You're sure?"

"Dead sure, and she was trying to keep it covered. Every time her sleeve crept up, she'd tug it back down immediately. What is it, do you think?"

"I don't know." But the familiar look was back on Hermione's face, and Harry knew she'd search every inch of the library until she did know.

"It's been a while since we've taken this walk," Hermione said, her voice low and hand tightening on his.

"Yeah. Why is it that all of our problems seem to be discussed here?"

"Maybe the Squid is a magnet for people with issues," Hermione attempted a joke, but her husband's silence told her it had met deaf ears.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione prodded, stopping their forward progress and sitting on the bank.

Harry joined her. "That we have a bigger mess on our hands than I thought. A few hours ago, when Dumbledore told us the scroll had been proved a fake, I was relieved. But listening to what happened to Mariah and Ginny…"

"I know. I'm afraid for all of us. And our babies." Harry tugged at her shoulders until she was leaning back into him. His arms came around her and his hands rested on the swell of their child.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Pigwidgeon flew out of the open window leaving Ginny staring after him. One letter was being sent to her boss, Taira, informing her of the change in residence and the likelihood that her next column would be a few days late. The other she sent to Draco. Both letters had been short and to the point, but Draco's had been damn near anorexic.

Draco, she'd written, something has come up and I have to stay at Ron's for a while. Please know that I am okay, apart from missing you, and that my being here is for the best. I will come home as soon as I can, I love you…always and forever, Ginny.

She hated that she couldn't write more. She wanted to spill out every event of the past few hours. Her anger at Harry and Ron for suspecting him, her fear over the botched kidnapping - but she didn't dare. She knew her husband well enough to know that he'd come charging to her side like an avenging angel.

Ginny lay down on the spare bedroom's hastily made bed with one hand behind her head and the other caressing the baby. The day's conversations were playing over and over in her mind. She kept hearing Harry say that Draco must want a child…

She slammed the door on the doubt trying to filter into her mind. Draco was having his own child, why would he need to kidnap Mariah or attempt to kidnap her, for pity's sake?

The only thing she knew with any certainty was that she needed to see him. He wouldn't be placated with letters for long. And in order to do that, she needed an ally. The only person she could think of was Hermione. Resolute, Ginny decided to tell Hermione as soon as possible about the marriage and let the chips fall where they may.

All at once, the day's events caught up with her. Lying in the quiet room, no longer needing adrenaline to keep her functioning, Ginny began to shake uncontrollably. She stoked the fire Ron had conjured for her and wrapped her body in blankets but nothing seemed able to stem the tremors wracking her body.

"Draco," she sobbed silently, wishing desperately that his strong arms could warm her.

^*^*^*^

Once everyone had left the apartment and Ginny had been settled for the night, Ron and Mariah faced each other. Both knew that the time for secrets and evasions had passed. Both knew that it was time to come clean with one another, despite the consequences.

Both hoped that they could at least remain friends once the conversation was over.

"Well," they said in unison, and an apprehensive laugh rumbled between them.

"Ladies first." They both took seats opposite each other; Ron in the armchair, Mariah stretched out on the couch, a pillow at the base of her spine for support.

Mariah smiled, took a sip of water, and said in her whisper soft voice, "why don't you ask me what you want to know first?"

"Let's see," Ron began ticking things off with his fingers. "First, we were fighting about my apparent blunder at thinking about our Bond. Second, there's your little 'gift'. Third, you tell me that the man was after our baby and may well be after Ginny's and Hermione and Harry's as well. That ought to do for starters."

"The thought that the man was after our baby is just a little more than a guess. He just acted…concerned, for lack of a better word, about it. After one attempted escape, I started having pain in my abdomen. He immediately summoned a midwitch. I tried to tell her that I was being held against my will, and I think I got through to her, but nothing ever came of it. I can only assume a memory charm was placed on her."

"Everything was okay, though," Ron pointedly eyed her stomach.

"Yes. It was nothing. But after that incident I realized that he never met my eyes. He just stared at my stomach and seemed to consider me nothing more than an incubator."

Ron said nothing, because, really, there was nothing to say. He was fighting down a rational desire to beat this unnamed man to a bloody pulp, as well as swallowing his fears for his child.

"You also wanted to know about my gift," Mariah said quietly.

Again, Ron remained silent. He merely glanced back into her eyes until she continued speaking.

"What I'm about to tell you must remain between us, Ron. Not just for my safety, but that of other Diviners. I don't know how much you're taught about us here in England, but it probably isn't much."

"All we were told was that Diviners are telepathic," Ron explained, calling on his memories of seventh year Divination.

"That's about right. As far as I know, that's all anyone outside the Order really knows. And I'm sorry I assumed otherwise earlier. We are a secret society, kept that way out of habit and fear, I guess. Centuries ago, Diviners were driven out of Europe by a wizarding community terrified of our powers. Or maybe I should say those of us that abused them."

"What powers?" Ron's brow creased. "I mean, all witches and wizards have powers, Mariah."

"Not like ours. We can harm, or heal, with just the strength of a thought. We can see into the past or future of any individual at will. We can persuade people to act however we wish by the words we use. Some have more power than others; some, like me, have very little."

"How can you harm someone with just a thought?" Ron asked, unconvinced. But seconds later, a gash appeared on his arm. Blood flowed bright and red towards his wrist before the wound sealed itself. If it hadn't been for the trail of sticky warm blood on his arm, he'd have thought the whole thing was just his imagination.

"My gift is primarily persuasion. That cut is about the extent of my Tactile ability. And even my Persuader gift isn't very strong. The head of our Order, Kalena, can make people perform as if under the Imperius curse just by talking to them."

"So you could, I don't know, make me walk off a cliff if I didn't act the way you wanted me to?" Ron tested.

"Not quite," Mariah grinned. She'd heard his thoughts and knew that he was just experimenting. "The most I could do would be to send you off for pickles and ice cream in the middle of the night after you'd said no."

"Pickles and ice cream?" Ron made a face.

"It's a pregnant thing."

He was silent for a while, and Mariah kept her face blank. "So," Ron began a little uneasily. "The Bond."

"The Bond," Mariah sighed. "Why don't you tell me what you think it involves and I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong?"

"Does it have to do with emotions?" Ron asked.

"Sort of," she answered meekly.

Ron waited for her to continue. When she didn't, Ron expelled his breath in a great huff. "Well, thanks loads for that informative answer. I'm all clear on it now," Ron spat in annoyance and stalked towards the window.

Mariah stayed where she was and spoke to his back. "What do you want me to say, Ron? For some, it is based on emotion. For some, it's more of a ceremonial thing. Bonding marks can come suddenly between two people and have to be induced in others. They are brought about naturally by strong…feelings…from the Diviner towards the bond."

Something in her voice made his heart hiccup and then resume beating at twice its normal speed. Ron turned and faced her, surprised to see a blush on her cheeks. He crossed to her in three strides and knelt beside her. She'd lowered her face so he placed a single finger under her chin to raise her eyes to his.

"Did you have strong feelings for me, Mariah?" he said, in a voice lower than a whisper.

She didn't trust her voice, so she stared directly into his eyes and answered him. Yes, I did.

Do you still? He asked, not entirely sure that his heart could keep up its frenetic pace without imploding from exertion.

"Before I answer that, you need to answer one thing for me," Mariah said aloud, causing Ron to give a small start. Her voice was still low, but very determined. "Do you still think that every tender feeling you have for me, every impulse to be near me stems from our being Bonded together?"

Ron had to think about that. Did he? He almost surprised himself when he realized that he didn't. He knew one thing with absolute certainty. If Mariah had been able to manipulate his emotions to keep him by her side, she'd have done it a long time ago. Besides which, he realized with a start, he trusted her. His feelings for her were entirely his own. And, based on the current status of his pulse rate, they were growing stronger every day.

When he focused on her again, Ron noticed tears pooling in her eyes. He grinned, guessing the cause. "Heard that, did you?"

"Yes," she said, wiping at the stray tear that had escaped. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Ron cupped her face reverently between his hands. "I enjoy having you in my mind, Mariah."

They'd been together almost without interruption for over a month. They'd conceived a child together. And for only the third time their lips came together. The first time had been an exploration of the unknown; the second had begun as a comfort. This time, it was an assault on his senses, on his heart. Ron felt every facet of his mind focus on the parts of him that touched her. It was as if his whole world centered on his hands and his lips and the feel of Mariah beneath them.

Their mouths parted on a mutual sigh. Ron touched his forehead to hers and their blue eyes met, smiles curving their swollen lips. And then Mariah yawned.

"I really knock your socks off, don't I?" Ron grinned, and then placed a solitary finger on her lips to silence the protestations. "You've had quite a day, Mariah. And you're still not entirely recovered."

Without another word, Ron moved to lift her from the couch. "Ron, you'll destroy your back. I weigh about the same as a small truck," Mariah protested weakly.

"You're forgetting, I'm a wizard," Ron puffed out his chest dramatically, drew out his wand and levitated her into his arms.

Mariah felt herself hit the soft mattress long before she was ready. She'd nearly forgotten how truly special it felt to be surrounded by his arms. "Stay, please," she said, already half asleep.

Ron looked at her then nodded. He drew the quilt around her, and lay down next to her. As he extinguished the candles that had been lit as the sun set, Mariah threaded her fingers through his and drifted off to sleep. He lay there quietly, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing, and felt the weight of her hand in his spread warmth through him like chocolate after a dementor's visit.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Ginny prepared for her talk with Hermione like a soldier prepared for battle. Unfortunately, she made a very poor soldier. Every time she pictured Hermione's shocked expression, she lost her nerve.

But she couldn't go on like this any longer, she needed Draco. And the only person who could help her get to him was Hermione.

Stepping out of the fire in Harry and Hermione's apartment, she glanced around quickly. Hermione was sitting at her desk, looking over a piece of parchment. Apparently arriving early wasn't going to give her any extra time to prepare. So, she thought, straight into it, then.

"Hi, Ginny," Hermione smiled and laid the parchment on the desk. She indicated the tea tray on the small table and sat at one of the two chairs. "I've just made tea, come and sit down."

"ER," Ginny glanced at the cups warily, "you made it?" She'd been present at too many of Hermione's cooking lessons to trust anything her friend made. A talented witch she was, but in the kitchen, she rivaled Hagrid.

"Relax," Hermione smiled. "I poured hot water over tea bags. Even I can do that properly."

They shared a slight laugh, but both turned serious almost immediately.

"I need your help, Hermione," Ginny blurted out.

"I didn't figure you asked to meet me, and not tell Harry about it, because you wanted to play Exploding Snap. That was a joke, Ginny," Hermione soothed at her friend's worried expression. "What is it? You know I'll do anything in my power to help you."

"I want to go home. Not to stay, just to see…him. It's been a week, Hermione, and I'm going crazy. I just want to see him, talk to him, tell him I'm okay."

Hermione looked into Ginny's eyes. She didn't see the sorrow or longing she'd expected. Instead, she saw despair. And it tugged at her heart; she knew how she'd feel if separated from Harry. But there was still too much danger to let her go off alone. Just yesterday another pregnant witch had been accosted.

"Can you get there by Floo powder?" Hermione asked, not knowing whether the man in question was wizard or Muggle.

Ginny picked up her teacup and sipped while she rehearsed her answer again. No matter how she did this, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"What?" Hermione touched her friend's shoulder when she noticed the tears glistening around her brown eyes.

"I can get there by Floo powder, but in order to travel you have to say your destination out loud." She'd envisioned herself saying "Malfoy Manor" into the fire and then watching Ron implode.

"Ginny, just tell me who it is so we can fix this and get you two back together."

"It's Draco," she said on a loud exhale. Ginny had been expecting many different reactions. Laughter hadn't been one of them. In fact, Hermione was laughing so hard it took a few moments for her to regain her composure. "What's so funny?"

"Oh Gin," Hermione fought back another wave of giggles. "For a second there, I thought you'd said it was Draco."

"It is."

Hermione's face went from smiling to frowning in a nanosecond. "Draco Malfoy?"

"No, Hermione, Draco Schwartz. Of course, Draco Malfoy."

"But…how…Draco?"

Ginny put her teacup down and explained about the reception, the dating whirlwind, the elopement. Not surprisingly, Hermione listened. She didn't judge; she didn't scowl. And for that, Ginny was extremely grateful.

"Gin," Hermione began tentatively, "you know Harry and Ron both believe that Draco is responsible for all the attacks."

"But I know he's not. I've thought about nothing else for the past week, Hermione. And I can prove he's not involved. He was with me, constantly, the whole week after the reception. He couldn't have been stalking Mariah."

Hermione remained silent. The Draco she knew could very well have had an accomplice stalking Mariah while he solidified an alibi with Ginny. But for now, for Ginny, she'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Why haven't you said anything before now?"

"Because in order to clear his name, I'd have to tell Ron everything I just told you. He'll go mental, Hermione. I'm still scratching up the courage for that confrontation."

"This isn't going to be easy." Hermione picked up her own teacup and the pair began to plan.

^*^*^*^

Three weeks later

Draco Malfoy sat at his Ministry issue desk, in his Ministry issue chair, staring at the Ministry issue memoranda piled around him. But all he could seem to focus on was the wand. Ginny's wand. It sat at the corner of his desk, a constant, heartbreaking reminder that she was gone. He'd kept it with him ever since he'd found it on the lane. That, and her almost daily letters, were all he had of her now.

The letters, he thought on a sigh. Uninformative as they were, he knew those brief bits of parchment were the only things keeping him sane. Prior to their meeting again at the reception, he would never have believed that he could miss someone so much, love someone so much, that their mere absence would almost shut him down completely.

And her two brief visits, while enjoyable at the time, had done nothing to alleviate the feeling of loss. It had been wonderful to hold her again, to kiss her, but it made him miss her even more when she'd left again. Draco supposed that was what love did; true love that is, not the facade his parents had shown.

Growing up, he'd known his parents had loved him. But it had been more the love of a possession than the love of a person. They never truly saw him as their son. He was the Heir. "You're Heir to all of this, Draco," they'd both said to him on countless occasions. Almost like a litany, one meant to drill the fact home to him lest he ever forget.

His mother's death in sixth year had hurt. Not unlike stubbing one's toe on the bedpost hurt. But like a stubbed toe, the hurt had faded rather quickly. His father's death, however, had hit him a bit harder. Every conversation about his Heir status had run nonstop through his head like so many bludgers. With his father's passing, he was to take up his rightful position as the Heir of the Malfoy estate. But that meant absolutely nothing to him.

Finally, he'd gone to the only person he knew could help him…the only person who would be honest with him, no matter how much he hated him. And Harry Potter had offered him a hand of friendship, even while suffused with unfathomable grief.

And that hand had given him the resolve to deny everything his father had drilled into him about the Malfoy's proper position as practitioners of the Dark Arts. A position, he realized that he had no interest in adopting.

It had taken a few years for Draco to collect himself after that revelation. A few glorious years of sun, and lightness, and a complete absence from anyone he'd ever known. He'd assumed an alias, the same one he now used at the Ministry, to keep his anonymity. He'd lived as a Muggle; something he knew would make Lucius Malfoy spin in his grave. But through those years, he'd come to know just who Draco Malfoy was. Not Lucius Malfoy's son, not the Malfoy Heir. Just Draco. Much to his surprise, he realized that he was a rather likeable sort.

Then, he thought grinning, he'd shown up at Harry and Hermione's reception to wish them well, and had walked straight into his destiny.

And now Ginny was with Ron, and, if what he'd overheard was correct, Potter was looking for him. As much as he wanted to respect her oft-stated desire for him to stay away, he just couldn't anymore. Not after her last letter, anyway. D, I felt the baby kick again today. He or she is getting really active… Even though Ginny was adamant that this was not the time to reveal their relationship, Draco was tired of hiding. He was tired of lying. And he missed his wife with a desperation he'd never thought possible.

And so he was about to do what he'd sworn never to do again for the remainder of his life.

Draco Malfoy was going back to Hogwarts.

^*^*^*^*^

"Damn it," Hermione cursed, pushing the heavy book so hard that it flew to the floor with a loud, dusty thump. Between her failure to turn up anything to help with the Bloody Counter or with Diviners or wrist tattoos, Hermione was beginning to lose faith in the Hogwarts library again. She'd taken it as a personal affront both this time and back in fourth year while Harry was preparing for the second task. The library had always been her province. The one place she could always find answers.

And it ticked her off no end that there were no answers to be found.

"ER, Professor Granger?" said a small voice to her left.

Hermione turned to see Katia Tringle, Harry's young Gryffindor student. "Yes, Katia?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Katia. I'm just a little frustrated at not being able to find what I'm looking for."

"Maybe if you told me what it is, I could help you. I know the library fairly well and I've always found everything I needed here."

Hermione found herself adopting Harry's habit by biting the insides of her cheeks whenever she was around Katia. It was uncanny the way this girl mirrored the girl Hermione used to be. "That's part of the problem, Katia. I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking for. There are no references to Diviners or wrist markings…" she broke off at Katia's sudden intake of breath.

"I'll be right back, Professor," Katia called over her shoulder, already disappearing into the stacks. Moments later, the girl was walking back towards Hermione with a large volume under her arm.

"What's this?" Hermione cocked her head to the side to read the title, A History of Little Known Sects in the Magical World.

"I got it out after History of Magic last week," Katia told her. "And I remember reading something in here about wrist marks." She began to page through the book just as the bell rang, signaling the beginning of afternoon classes. "Oh my," Katia exclaimed, obviously conflicted. "I'm late for Professor Potter's class. But I want to show you what I found."

"I'll find it, Katia," Hermione said with a grin and scribbled on a piece of spare parchment. "Give this to Professor Potter, and he'll know you were helping me."

Hermione stared after the younger version of herself, fighting a sudden urge to laugh. Then she focused on the text in front of her. Resigned to another fruitless search, she began turning pages until she found exactly what she was looking for.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, then began to read in earnest. Two hours later, she was still poring over the very few, yet very informative pages on Diviners.

Harry stood at the entrance of the library for a few moments, studying her while she studied the book. How many times, he thought, had he found her here, in exactly that same position?

He wished he had happy news to impart to her, any news besides more attacks. But he didn't. Dumbledore had just told him about two other attempted kidnappings on pregnant witches. That made a total of seven incidents. All perpetrated by the blond woman with the mark on her wrist.

Now pregnant women, and their husbands, were starting to show up at the gates, begging for sanctuary. Dumbledore granted it. But he still refused to tell Harry anything about the Triuna Crudus beyond the fact that he and Professor Trelawney were working on it.

Heart heavy, Harry walked towards Hermione and, as she was oblivious to everything but the book in front of her, he leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

"Not here, Filch. Someone will see," Hermione grinned, not looking up from the book.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I knew the moment you entered the library, love. Come and look at this." Hermione pulled the chair next to her out and Harry sat. He read what she was pointing to, his mouth falling further open with every word he read.

"You've got to talk to Mariah," Harry said when he'd finished.

"If I can get her and Ron apart for longer than two minutes." The newlyweds shared a smile at the thought of their best friends. Ron and Mariah had been acting like newlyweds themselves for the past month. For Hermione and Harry, it was like an answered prayer. "It's wonderful to watch them together, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I don't envy him when Molly finds out about all of this, though. Both Ginny and Ron keeping the news of impending grandchildren from her? She'll send howlers until the kids start at Hogwarts."

"If they survive that long," Hermione said sadly, placing a hand on the child that was growing by leaps and bounds within her.

"Hermione," Harry's voice lowered and he placed his hand on top of hers. "You're safe here. Talk to Mariah. Go now, if it makes you feel better. We may want to try and convince Ginny and Mariah to come stay here as well. I know Ron's got wards up at the apartment, but those can be broken. I'll go back to Dumbledore with what you've found. Maybe now he'll talk to me."

And, Harry thought, this time, he was going to stay in Dumbledore's office until he did.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Harry walked along the corridors towards his office. He had a few seventh years dropping off their research projects this evening, and he wanted to make sure he got them before tackling Albus Dumbledore.

He hadn't taken three steps into the office, but he knew instinctively that someone was there. Drawing his wand out and pointing it at his desk chair, he muttered "Lumos." As he did, the chair slowly turned to reveal its occupant.

"I hear you're looking for me, Potter," said Draco Malfoy in a slow drawl, his trademark smirk curling his lips.